


Put Your Money On Me

by AeschylusRex



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Prompt Fulfillment, Slice of Life, White Rose Week, volumes 1-3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 12:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16681807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeschylusRex/pseuds/AeschylusRex
Summary: "You wish you knew what was wrong with you that you always find yourself so enamored with weapons. If she wants to tear you apart, you’ll be completely unguarded.But she doesn't."





	Put Your Money On Me

**Author's Note:**

> 11.20.18  
> it's like 3am and why am i actually awake? god.  
> anyway, i started working on this piece for White Rose Week on tumblr like a year ago and never finished it. seemed a shame to waste it, so here's the finished product.  
> ~enjoy!

_Prompt: (Reunion and/or Protection) - White Rose Week 2017_

. . . 

i.

It starts out simply, with small gestures that one might easily overlook. Weiss, herself, probably overlooks them, but she doesn’t have to think about the things she does or why she feels compelled to do them. There’s a protective instinct hidden deep under her icy crust, rooted at the very core of her nature.

“ _Ruby_.” She catches your chair as it’s about to tip back, rocked up on its two hind legs and less than a second from dumping you onto the floor of your forgotten corner of the library. “Be careful!”

You blink yourself awake, bleary and puffy-eyed. “Weiss?” You turn to peer up at her in some kind of foggy wonder. “What are you doing here?”

Weiss huffs. “What do you think, dolt?”

Your mouth hangs open as you take her in. Distantly, you’re aware you’re acting strange, but it’s two in the morning and Weiss looks no worse for wear in her Beacon uniform, stiff jacket as crisp as ever, not a hair out of place. Sometimes you wonder if she’s human, or if she’s too rich to be human, if the Schnees might truly be a little cold in the middle.

Which is…stupid. Yeah. You’ve smelled Weiss after a long hunt. She does perspire, if only a bit.

Weiss’ clear blue eyes rove across the desk you’ve colonized, taking in your haphazard piles of papers and books. Her own fastidiously organized binder is tucked into the designer bag slung over her shoulder.

“You need to learn how to study more efficiently,” she says. Her crisp voice is softened somewhat by fatigue, and the shadows that lurk between the rows of sentinel bookshelves. “If you come up with a better system you won’t have to stay up so late all the time.”

You bite your lip and chew it a bit. The top button of her blouse is undone, the red ribbon around her throat loosened, and a tiny wedge of alabaster skin peeks out. You’ve only just noticed the tips of her sharp collar bones. You experience a startling impulse to press your fingers into the hollow there.

“Are you listening to me?”

Your attention snaps back to the crystal gaze glaring down at you. “Uhhh. Yes?”

“You are possibly the _worst_ liar I’ve ever met.”

You manage a scrunched, nervous sort of expression. “It’s not a skill I ever really had to practice?”

Weiss crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, brows drawn. “Sometimes I don’t know if you’re joking or if you _really are_ just that naive.”

“Uhhhh.” You wilt a bit. “The…the latter.”

Weiss rolls her eyes. “Come on, weirdo. Let’s go to bed.”

You turn and gaze mournfully at the detritus spread over the desk. “I can’t. I’m not done studying.”

“Too bad.” Weiss reaches for the nearest notebook and flips it shut. “You’re not going to absorb anything else tonight. You’ve clearly reached your saturation point.”

You droop forward, head thunking against the wooden table top. “I’m gonna fail Oobleck’s test.”

“Nonsense.”

“Weiss-“

“You’re more prepared than you realize.” A cool hand presses briefly against the back of your neck, and you shiver. “The best thing you can do now is get some rest and make sure your mind is fresh.” She pauses. “Well, as fresh as your mind ever is.”  

What choice do you have against such overwhelming logic? “…Okay.”

“Come on. Help me pack all this up.”

You roll your head to one side, cheek pressed flat against a folder, and let your gaze wander up over her figure. At this oblique angle, Weiss seems to tower over you, imperious and imposing, even with her tiny stature. You know she’d take a lot of flack for attempting a hunting license at her size if she wasn’t a Schnee, and if she wasn’t also one of the most terrifying people on Beacon’s campus. She certainly doesn’t need the needle sharp tip of her rapier to eviscerate her critics.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

Weiss rolls her eyes again, a habit that bothered you at first, but which, gradually, has only endeared her to you more. “What, I can’t be nice when I feel like it?”

“You just don’t feel like it very often.”

Her expression turns positively glacial. A strange thrill buzzes through you and hums in your ears.

“Get. Up.”

You obey with a groan, limbs creaking and cracking. Unlike Weiss, your uniform is a mess, disheveled and wrinkled. The red ribbon at your throat has long since been discarded, ripped off and stuffed into the pocket of your blazer. The top three buttons of your shirt hang open. Your boots sit unlaced under the desk. An exploratory probe of your hair reveals it to be in a similarly undignified state.

Weiss curls her lip. “You look terrible.”

You flinch instinctively. She’s beautiful and sharp, and she’s _close_. Tonight, you’re too fuzzy-brained to remember yourself, to take an instinctive step back, to give even a fleeting thought to your own self-preservation. You wish you knew what was wrong with you that you always find yourself so enamored with weapons. If she wants to tear you apart, you’ll be completely unguarded.

But she doesn’t.

With a sigh, Weiss leans over and begins to scoop your things into your bag. You stand stock still for a few seconds, watching her dumbly. Is this really happening? Is Weiss mothering you? You don’t know whether to be happy or humiliated. Aren’t you supposed to be the leader? But then, it isn’t very often that Weiss does something so casually considerate. At the very least, there’s usually a breathtaking barb thrown in.

“Are you gonna stand there like an idiot or help me pack up your crap?”

There it is.

“Right, sorry!” You spring into action, picking up your bag and cramming the last of your supplies inside.

It’s a terrible, disorganized mess, but at least it’s _your_ terrible disorganized mess. You glance over at Weiss as you slip on your boots and find her watching you, lips pressed into a thin line. For the first time since she arrived, materializing out of the dark like some kind of scolding ghost, you realize you’re still not sure what she’s doing here.

“Weiss, why are _you_ up so late?”

She stiffens, then sets her shoulders and clears her throat. “I had some source materials to review for Goodwitch’s essay.”

You put a sloppy knot in the laces of your left boot. “That essay isn’t due for three more weeks.”

Weiss narrows her eyes. “How do you think I ace my classes, dolt? You think I pull all nighters the day before my assignments are due like you?”

That brings you up short. “I…guess I assumed you were just really smart.” You laugh nervously. “You know, since you’re a Schnee and all. And Schnees are-“

“Just people.”

You gape. “What?”

“We’re just people.” Weiss glances away, cheeks tinting slightly. “Just like everyone else.”

“B-but…”

Her eyes are bright as they flick back to you, icy and fixed, unwavering in their intensity. “Money can buy a lot of things, Ruby, but it can’t make you a better person. You still have to work hard if you want to be good at something.”

“Oh,” you breathe. “Yeah, um. That makes sense.”

Weiss crosses her arms again, turning away. “I may be rich and beautiful, but I’m not some magical creature. I’m just…me. I have to _do_ my best if I want to _be_ the best.”

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Hm?” Weiss tilts her head towards you. “For what?”

“For not realizing.”

“Oh.” Her expression clears. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not fine.” You leave your other boot unlaced and come to stand at her side, resting a gentle hand on her tense shoulder. “People should look past your exterior and see you for who you are, which is someone who works really hard. You deserve recognition for that.”

Weiss’ jaw ticks. “I suppose that would be nice.”

You smile. “Let’s go to bed.”

Her lips twitch, the hint of a smile suggested in the corners. “That’s my line.”

Your hand ghosts down the center of her back. “Lead the way, best friend.”

“Partner,” she snaps, but her eyes are just a little more liquid as she slips away from your touch, turning to trudge through the dark maze of bookshelves.

You trail behind her with an exhausted, but satisfied sigh. It feels like you’ve accomplished something more important than studying tonight.

-

 

ii

Blake runs away for an entire weekend, and by the time everything sorts itself out, Weiss has changed for the better.

In a Vale shipyard, surrounded by city police and towers of shipping containers, Weiss extends an olive branch to Blake with a few crisp words and a terse, mildly irritated reassurance of shared camaraderie. It’s less than Blake probably deserves, but it’s a huge step for Weiss, and in the end it’s enough. Team RWBY is back together again, and you’re all too relieved to fret over the details.

You return to the dorm as a group. Sun peels off into the night with little more than a cheesy grin and parting salute. Blake and Yang push ahead to have a private chat while you and Weiss trail behind them in the dark city. A cold wind rustles your cloak as your boots scuff against the sidewalk. Normally one to chatter incessantly, you stare instead at the outline of the shattered moon glowing through the thin veil of clouds overhead. Crescent Rose hangs heavy on your back. The bruising from Roman’s buckshot throbs dully under your corset. Beside you, Weiss’ posture is characteristically stiff, arms crossed defensively over her narrow chest. She keeps her narrowed gaze turned away from you while she walks, and you suspect she’s probably ruminating on dark subjects, but you know better than to push.

You reach the gates of Beacon just shy of two in the morning, pausing together for a moment to stare up at the spire of the CCT tower rising above the school. By now Blake and Yang have wandered so far ahead you can just barely make them out down the walk inside the school grounds.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t do anything stupid like that again,” Weiss grumbles, suddenly, as if her own ill-timed outburst wasn’t the reason for Blake’s disappearance in the first place.

You click your tongue, chiding her softly. “Weiss…”

Her pale brows knit together, eyes hardening. “Must I apologize to you, too?”

“Well, I did spend my entire Sunday on a manhunt.”

“And I didn’t?” Weiss sniffs. “Blake isn’t the only one with problems. She needs to work on her coping mechanisms.”

You clasp a hand on her shoulder, noting the chill running under her powder blue bolero. “I know we’ve all got our own issues, but Blake is dealing with a lifetime of prejudice and rejection.”

Weiss shrugs out your hold and thrusts the gates open violently with a glyph. “She’s not the only one.”

The sharp bite in her tone keeps you half a step back as your follow her to the dorms.

Two days later, in the middle of a long, blurry run, you realize that, far from being an unrepentant curmudgeon, Weiss has actually done something remarkable. It brings you up short at the edge of a clearing, breathing hard and fast under your plain black tank top. You feel like an idiot for not recognizing it sooner.

When you return to the dorm half an hour later, sweaty, sore, and exhausted, Weiss makes an acerbic remark about the leaves tangled in your windblown hair, and it’s all you can do not to hug her where she stands. Instead, you cross your arms over your chest, and bite your lip to hold back all the things you know she isn’t ready to hear.

“You look nice today, Weiss,” you say, simply, pleasant and weary.

She frowns, lashes fluttering, pink creeping into her pale cheeks, and you smile to yourself as you walk off to the showers. You make a mental note to compliment her more often.

-

 

iii.

She’s precise. More exacting sometimes than a surgeon as she studies and trains. You watch her when you think she’s not looking because you’re trying to understand how a person could live within the confines of such strict discipline. Her peculiar brand of perfectionism is anathema to your entire way of life. You arrived here at Beacon on the merits of your instincts, enthusiasm, and innate talent, and you can’t quite fathom it.

“Weiss, who cares if your stance isn’t _perfectly_ balanced? You’ve been at this for hours!”

Sweating under the collar of her dress, cheeks glistening pink, Weiss glares at you from the corner of her eye. It’s been a just over a week since your wild expedition with Oobleck nearly ended in disaster, and everyone’s been quiet. Weiss most of all. Her demeanor has been downright frosty all afternoon, mood souring further with each fruitless execution of her defensive routine. You watch the muscles in her arm tremble as she lowers her rapier, letting the tip drag along the gym floor.

She’s exhausted, and you’re bored.

“Ruby, go away.”

“Let’s get dinner!” You hop up from your seat against the wall, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “C’mon! I’m starving!”

“I need to correct this block.”

“It looks fine, Weiss! Come _on!_ ”

Her pale skin tints a bright red, eyes glittering like hard sapphires under the fluorescent lights. Your stomach knots. You know the look of an oncoming outburst all too well by now. To your surprise, however, Weiss merely turns and storms away without a word.

She doesn’t come to dinner.

“She’s been off ever since that stuff on the train.” Yang says, reaching for another fried chicken leg.

Blake prevaricates between dishes with a book tucked under her arm, pretending, for a moment, that she won’t just select the baked salmon again. “I think we all have.”

“True.” Yang heaps a generous scoop of mashed potatoes onto her plate. “It’s no fun getting your ass kicked.”

You trail along behind them glumly, tray piled too high with sweets and empty carbs. Weiss would definitely have something to say about it if she were here, but you remain noticeably unscolded.

“I just don’t get it,” you whine. “Who cares if her form is off a couple of measly inches? Real battles call for improvisation, not delicate routines.”

Blake glances sidelong at you, tray bumping gently against Yang’s as your sister stops to grab a lemon bar from the pile of desserts at the end of the counter. “There’s a lot to be gained from rehearsing the classic forms. You can cycle through them more quickly on the battlefield if they’re already committed to muscle memory.”

You huff because you know she’s right. “I know. I just think Weiss is pushing herself too hard.”

“Well, can you blame her?” Yang interjects, shaking a carton of milk at you. “We almost died on that train. Lucky for us she remembered her forms fast enough to conjure up a wall of ice and keep us from being obliterated.” Yang lifts her tray off the end of the line and comes around to stand beside you. “By the way, is that all you’re gonna eat? You should at least grab a salad or something.”

Blake wordlessly adds a banana to the pile of junk food on your plate.

“Just talk to her,” she says as she passes by.  

But it’s no use.

Weiss doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s been sleeping poorly, something about a near death experience, but when prompted offers only vague insinuations about chainsaws and “Blake showing up in the knick of time”. She won’t stop her grueling training regimen, and you won’t stop whining about it. All attempts to derail her are fruitless. In the end, you’re forced to leave her to her own devices. The Vytal festival is looming. You’ve got some tweaks to make to Crescent Rose.

It’s not like you need to spend every waking minute with your partner. It’s just that it kind of feels like she’s ignoring you, and you’re annoyed with yourself for being so incredibly bothered by it. You begin to avoid her, pointedly at first, and then out of sheer stubbornness, but if Weiss notices anything, she doesn’t give any sign. She’s the last to bed every night and first one up every morning. Her afternoons are whittled away in the gym, her evenings spent in the library.

Before you know it, a week has passed and she hasn’t uttered your name in days.

“Alright everyone! Listen up!” Professor Port stands proudly before you all with Blunderbuss slung over his shoulder. The dark, Grimm infested forest looms large at his back. “As you all know, this is peak season for boarbatusk migrations! You should expect to find herds of anywhere from 10 to 30 creatures at time, which makes this an excellent opportunity to train against large groups of Grimm! Be sure to adjust your tactics, as you won’t able to focus on just one opponent at a time!”

To your left, Jaune makes a noise that reminds you vaguely of a wilting flower. “Oh jeez.”

Pyrrha pats his shoulder. “You’ll do great, Jaune. Don’t worry.”

“I want everyone to work in pairs!” Port announces. “Stick with your usual partners, please! No mixing and matching! I’ll be tracking your movements on my scroll, so don’t slack off!”

You hear the clipped gait of Weiss’ heels against the grass as she comes to stand beside you. “Come on,” she grits. “Let’s get this over with.”

She stalks off toward the line of the trees at the edge of the clearing. You roll your eyes and drag your feet after her.

Twenty minutes later, the voices of you classmates have faded away completely and the oppressive silence of the forest surrounds you. There is no birdsong, no rustling underbrush. Even the buzz of insects is noticeably absent. You keep your head on the swivel, peering around through the gloom. Ten paces ahead of you you partner’s stiff Atlesian peacoat glows stark white, even in the shadows. The seasons are shifting, and the air is colder now than it has been all semester. You’ve donned one of your heavier grey turtlenecks to stave off the chill.

You watch Weiss delicately pick her way across a tricky maze of gnarled tree roots in her thigh-high boots and wonder, for the upteenth time, why she insists on hunting in such nice clothes. It’s purely impractical.

“Wait.” Weiss holds up a closed fist.

Your heart jolts, and you stop. “What is it?”

“Shhh!”

You glare at her back. Seriously? You’re not a little kid. Gathering your focus with a huff, you tilt your head and listen.

Nothing. Only more silence.

You approach Weiss carefully on her right. Her blue eyes are narrowed, mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. Her pale hair, the color of winter snow, spirals flawlessly down her back, no worse for wear despite your brisk hike through the underbrush. Your own hair has begun to frizz, clothes sticking in all the places that have accumulated sweat. Annoyed, and faintly awed, you wonder if Weiss has even begun to perspire.

You lean in a little closer, toward the tiny strip of neck exposed over the top of her high collar, to get a whiff of her scent, and there, layered faintly under her clean, cedre blanc perfume, you smell the tangy, saline hint of exertion.

“What are you _doing_?” Weiss elbows you away, and your eyelids flutter.

Did you accidentally get too close?

You straighten up immediately, hands flying up to ward off any further contact. “Sorry!”

She glares at you with an arched brow. “Are you feeling okay? You’ve been acting weird all week.”

Your temper, which has been simmering for at least that long, finally flares. “ _I’ve_ been acting weird? What about you!”

Weiss looks affronted. “What _about_ me?”

You stutter incoherently for a moment, waving your arms about. “You- You’ve been- ! In the gym with the- And I-!”

“Ruby, what the _hell_ are you talking about?”

“You’ve been ignoring me!” You screech, and it’s pathetically shrill. You clench your teeth in frustration.

Weiss is taken aback. “Ignoring you? Are you serious?”

“Yes!”

“You must be joking.” She flicks a lock of white hair over her shoulder. “If anyone’s been ignoring people it’s _you_.”

“What?! I have _not_ been-”

“-Oh, yes you _have_!” Weiss’ fists clench at her sides, and the temperature around you drops sharply. “Don’t you _dare_ make this about me! You’ve been avoiding me for days! Every time I so much as walk into a room you scurry in the other direction! What the hell has gotten into you?!”

“I’m not the one who’s been skipping meals and living in the gym! You even refuse to study with me!”

“Because you’re distracting, you idiot! It’s hard enough studying when I’m tired without you flicking eraser shavings at me or asking me questions about your homework every two minutes!”

“Hey! Not all of us are as good at school as you!”

“Quit making excuses for you astounding immaturity!”

You blink, surprised to find moisture stinging your eyes. “I’m _worried_ about you, Weiss! You’ve done nothing but eat, sleep, and practice those damn defensive routines for weeks! You don’t want to spend any time with the rest of your team, and it feels like you’re shutting us out!”

Weiss’ glare turns to exasperation. “You mean _you,_ don’t you? It feels like I’m shutting _you_ out.”

You recoil. “What?”

“Ruby,” Weiss rolls her eyes, “instead of avoiding me like a spiteful brat, why didn’t you just say you wanted to spend some time with me?”

You shoot her a reproachful look. “Would have you actually listened to me if I had asked nicely?”

“Of course!”

Your glare hardens. “Truth, Weiss.”

Her anger wilts a bit, glare softening. “...Okay. Maybe not.” She sniffs and folds her arms. “But that doesn’t mean what you did was justified. Leaders don’t _avoid_ their teammates.”

“I know,” you grumble. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I just-”

“Shhh, quiet!”

“Weiss, I’m trying to-”

A strong hand clamps over your mouth. “I said quiet, you moron! I hear something!”

You go still, uncomfortably aware of the rough press of her cool, dry skin. Her palm smells faintly of dust and cedar, faintly of something else entirely her, sweet and a little crisp. Your head is spinning a bit as she rips her fingers away, sticking one to her lips.

“ _Quiet,_ ” she mouths, and you nod dumbly.

In the distance, you hear a trumpeting cry, followed closely by a chorus of raucous responses. The forest floor trembles and you swallow thickly. You’ve managed to position yourselves directly in the path of a migrating herd.

Without warning a black glyph materializes directly under your feet, shooting you straight up into the canopy. Fortunately, Weiss can count on your fast reflexes. Crescent Rose is in your hands and deployed in an instant, long blade whipping around to catch the edge of a thick trunk. You use a combination of leverage and momentum to swing yourself onto a long, forked branch, landing in a crouch. Weiss materializes at your side a moment later, perched gracefully on one knee with Myrtenaster drawn.

Realistically, your view is not much better from the treetops. A mess of leaves and interlocking boughs obscures much of the area around you, and you’re forced to rely on your other senses to anticipate the trajectory of the stampeding Grimm. This is the part where Blake generally comes in handy.

“There,” Weiss whispers, pointing.

You follow her line of sight to the shuddering underbrush less than 100 yards away where sticks, dust, leaves, and other detritus billow up into the air.

You focus your hearing. “At least two dozen… and a big one. Probably an elder.”

“Great,” Weiss grumbles under her breath.

She twirls the dust canisters on the hilt of her silver rapier, clicking hesitantly between blue and red.

“Fire? Really?”

Her eyes flash up to yours, ice bright in the glow of a tiny sunbeam. A jolt of something disorienting crackles through you.

“To confuse and separate,” she whispers.

You blink, and stare back down at the approaching chaos. “Wouldn’t ice be the safer choice while we’re _surrounded by trees_?”

“Yes, but not the best choice offensively.”

You tilt your head, conceding her point. “Okay.”

You find the button on Crescent Rose’s handle, flipping it deftly into its less unwieldy sniper mode, and aim down the barrel. A clean shot to the jowl area will disable most boarbatusks. Beside you, Weiss’ breath is quick, but steady in your ear. You flip off the safety and rip back the lever to chamber a bullet, poised and tense.

The first beast shreds through a mass of ferns at 40 yards, thundering into view.

“On the count of three,” you murmur.

You hold up your fingers.

Three.

Two.

One.

The crack of your sniper cuts the air and the boarbatusk goes down hard on its snout. Ripping the lever back, you quickly chamber another bullet and finish it off. The rest of the herd is now in view and on high alert. Dozens of furious red eyes flare in the shadows, a shifting black mass of white-spiked shapes picking up speed as they tear through bushes, nettles, vines, and saplings.

Calm and focused, Weiss clicks over to her blue canister, holds out her rapier, and fires a jet of ice in a straight line across the forest floor, slicking the terrain. The next wave of monsters loses its footing and goes down, creating chaos in the ranks behind them. You pick off all you can with close shots as Weiss clicks back to the red canister and shoots a line of fire down into the foliage, drawing a circle with Myrtenaster’s needle-sharp tip to trap the angry Grimm in a burning ring.

“Way to go, Weiss!”

She smiles over at you, mouth opening to respond, when suddenly, the tree you’re perched in shudders. “What was that?”

You jump up, feet balanced precariously on the wobbling branch. Pistons hiss and latches snap as your sniper morphs back into a scythe. At the base of the tree, a boarbatusk the size of a small truck growls up at you. It’s bone-white mask is cracked, armor punctured with a smattering of broken arrows and spears. You brace yourself as it rears up for a another headbutt against the trunk.

“It’s the elder!”

Weiss perches on a glyph. “Ruby, get down!”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re gonna fall, you idiot!”

“That’s that plan!”

“What?!”

“Just trust me! Do you trust me?!”

She bites her lip as the Grimm slams head first into the tree and cracks the trunk. You wave your arms, relying on your speed and a series of micro adjustments to keep your balance. Finally, despite the obvious doubt in her expression, she nods.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and put on a determined grin. “Stairway to heaven! Just like we practiced!”

Without a word, Weiss faces skyward and extends a hand. A swirling white glyph forms against her palm, expanding like a magical shield to cover her entire body. She draws her weapon back in her other arm, point perfectly positioned in the center of the glyph, and fires a line of glowing discs straight up into the treetops and out of sight.

“Go!” she shouts, and you don’t waste any time.

Using the next shudder of the doomed tree, you time your bounce, add some height with the recoil from a sniper shot, and launch yourself onto the face of the first glyph. Time slows as your semblance kicks into gear. Your legs begin to move. You feel the pressure against your body as you rocket into the sky, sprinting from glyph to glyph, until you’re soaring over the forest. It’s a classic combo move, further perfected since Ozpin’s forest trial, and okay, maybe it’s a little flashy, but your fighting style is nothing if not dramatic. You reach the final platform, more than 100 feet in the air, and front flip over the top, spiraling into a dive with your scythe held upright against your body, blade protruding outward just over the top of your head.

As you fall, you tuck yourself into a ball, torque your body hard, and begin to somersault head over heel like windmill, drawing on your speed to augment the rotation until you’re as deadly as a chainsaw and many times the size. Leaves and branches disintegrate before you, until you feel the force of new glyphs tugging at your descent, pushing and pulling you into better position as Weiss adjusts your trajectory.

You’re a giant bladed cannonball, and the Grimm in your path is about to get shredded.

You’re aware of little except the impact. Your blade chews through the giant boarbatusk’s time-hardened armor like a table-saw through butter, spraying bloody chunks of bone and smoking flesh in all directions. Weiss’ glyphs keep you hovering there until the ancient Grimm has been begun to dissolve into dust. Only then does she let you down. Your blade sinks into the soft earth on the final rotation, embedding itself deep enough to bring your spinning attack to jarring halt, but you use the momentum to adjust, unfolding out of your tight curl to swing up and over Crescent Rose. Your back arches, legs fully extending as you release the handle, performing one last front flip before you skid to a stop in a wide power stance.

You suck in a sharp breath, heart pounding in your ears. “That. Was so awesome.”

“Ruby, look out!”

Your sense motion to your left and stumble out of the way just in time to avoid being gored on the end of a long, white tusk. You stagger, struggling to find your balance amid the lingering dizziness, and scamper back toward Crescent Rose. This time you don’t quite make it.

You trip and land on your face in the dirt.

A white blur drops from the treetops, landing neatly in front of you as the remainder of the herd charges across the forest floor. “Get your weapon and stay back!” she orders. “I’ve got this!”

Whirling around, she has barely a second to slash Myrtenaster hard across her body and erect a jagged wall of ice before the first of the boarbatusks slam against it. A larger creature tries to leap over, but she’s ready, dropping low into a familiar form and lunging up with her rapier. Gleaming metal slices through the attacker’s belly and he falls into the ring of ice, slain. The next two are treated to similar ends, and you watch, transfixed, as Weiss cycles through her defensive poses with easy grace, blocking opponents, using their size and strength against them. She dismembers five Grimm in quick succession with a deft flick of her wrist and a few well-placed glyphs. She moves like a dancer more than a fighter, limber, nimble, and calm.

Coming to your senses, you scramble up and rush to Crescent Rose, but when you turn back around, blade at the ready, Weiss is locked in what appears to be an intricate duel with three separate boarbatusks. Her blade whirls and flashes as she spins, lunging to parry a driving tusk, squaring her shoulders and dropping her arm to block across her body. She uses her glyphs like springboards to keep from being surrounded, flipping over the backs of the beasts when they start to pen her in. You slice a couple Grimm to ribbons when they stray too close to, but your actions are robotic.

Weiss is magnificent, and you are utterly mesmerized.

She doubles over as the last of the Grimm disintegrates, hands on her knees, breathing hard. You pack up your weapon, sling it over your back, and rush to her side.

“Weiss! Holy shitballs, that was _so_ _awesome_!” You touch her back lightly, ever cautious. “Are you okay?”

She lifts a hand and gives you a silent thumbs up.

All clear.

You want to hug her. All of her. Everything you can reach. As hard as you can.

 _“Well, done girls!”_ Professor Port’s voice sounds suddenly from the scroll in Weiss’ pocket.

She straightens up, blinking slowly, and takes a second to compose herself before pulling out the device. “Thank you, professor.”

Port beams up from the screen. _“You two finished the assignment first, congratulations! Attracting the beasts with an exaggerated display of aggression was a clever strategy indeed. I am quite impressed.”_

Weiss glances sidelong at you. “It was Ruby’s idea.”

You just shrug, still somewhat dazed, and Port chuckles. _“Well, whoever’s idea it was, it certainly worked. Great job! Oh, and Ms. Schnee, I must say I am extremely impressed with the way you handled yourself today. Your swordsmanship is dramatically improved, and your forms look nearly flawless! Well done, again! You ought to be very proud of yourself!”_

A bit of guilt edges into your mind as you watch Weiss smile demurely down at her scroll. “Thank you, professor. It… That means a lot.”

_“My pleasure! Now, get thee hence! A hot shower awaits!”_

He signs off and you stand together in the ring of ice for a moment, contemplating the destruction all around you. A new hole gapes from the canopy overhead and splintered branches litter the trampled underbrush. Little remains intact of the vegetation that was here when you arrived. You glance down at your skirt, unsurprised to find garish streaks of blood mingling with the mud caked to your front. Weiss, by comparison, looks largely unruffled save the blood splatter staining her boots, but you do reach up to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear, letting your fingers slide along the cartilage there. Her skin is damp and warm.  

She shivers and ducks away. “Let’s get back. I’m starving.”

Holstering Myrtenaster, she tromps off through the forest, and you trail after her again, heart racing.

-

 

iv.

At dinner, Blake waits until Weiss leaves for the dorm to level you with a knowing look. “I heard Weiss did really well in class today. Something about perfect forms?”

You duck your head. “Yeah, um. Professor Port was pretty excited.”

“Mhm.” Blake elbows Yang, who keeps fussing with a bandage on her bicep. “Leave it alone.”

Yang wrinkles her nose, glancing sidelong at Blake before looking up across the table at you. “Heard she saved your ass, Sis.”

You stir your food without enthusiasm. “So?”

“So, I think you owe her an apology.”

You scrub at your eyes and stare glumly into your half finished bowl of curry. “Yeah.”

Blake offers you a small smile. “Next time, maybe just tell her you miss her.”

Your cheeks burn under your fingers, and Yang grins. “Don’t wanna seem too eager, huh? I get it.”

Blake elbows her again. “Communication is key.”

“I feel like you’re giving me relationship advice,” you grumble.

Yang and Blake exchange knowing looks. You pick exactly that moment to leave the cafeteria.

-

 

v.

Weiss is already in bed when you find her. The lights are off except for the reading lamp clipped to her bunk and she’s got a history textbook open on her lap. Her hair is loose and damp, and she’s thrown a knit grey cardigan on over her nightgown to ward off the chill.

Your shoes scuff against the carpet as you approach. “Hey, uh… Weiss?”

She arches a brow, but doesn’t look up. “Yes, Ruby?”

“I...wanted to apologize.”

She sighs and snaps her book shut. “I forgive you.

“But...” You frown. “You don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.”

She meets your gaze steadily. “I’m too tired for one of your stammering apologies right now. Whatever it is, you’re forgiven.”

“But, Weiss-”

She holds up a hand. “I know I’m not easy to get along with. I expect there to be friction from time to time.”

“But- No, that’s not-” You stop and breathe, collecting your thoughts. “Weiss, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was _me_. I gave you a hard time instead of supporting you. I failed as your partner.” You wince. “You said you were going to do your best to be the best partner you could be, and all this time that’s exactly what you’ve been doing, but I’ve just been acting like a stupid kid and-”

Cool fingers wrap around your wrist, and you jump, cutting yourself off. Blue eyes peer up at you through long, pale lashes. Your head empties itself of every thought except the way her skin looks up close. She smells like clean soap and linen.

“You might still be kid, Ruby, but you’re not stupid.” Her lashes flutter, brow smoothing slowly. “Accept your faults, own up to your failures, but don’t put yourself down, okay?” A tiny smile flits onto her lips.

Your heart skips a beat. “O-okay.”

She releases your wrist. “Now, for the love of dust, please let me go to bed. We have class in the morning.”

“Right, yeah.” You stare down at your wrist. “class.”

You clamber up to your bunk and spend ages staring at the ceiling in a daze.

-

 

vi.

Physically, Weiss is the weakest on your team.

“She’s 100 pounds soaking wet,” is how Yang puts it, watching Weiss shimmy into a pair of breathtakingly slim trousers.

You just barely hold yourself back when you go to correct her.

Your partner’s true weight is up to 115, which you only know because you peek sometimes when she weighs herself at the gym. Experience tells you she’d be embarrassed if she realized you paid such close attention. She’s always been self-conscious about her size, although, personally, she does nothing but impress you. You’ve watched her struggle for months to build muscle mass despite her petite build and it makes your insides flutter. She’s cool and smart and beautiful and your filter still clicks off sometimes when you’re around her, but all the babbling is worth it just to see that hint of pink stain her pale cheeks. Her smiles keep you in the clouds for hours.

Despite her hard work, however, her size puts her at a clear disadvantage, which would be less of a problem if she didn’t also seem determined to martyr herself for the sake of her teammates. Sacrificing herself to win the doubles round in the Vytal Tournament counts as the most dramatic example of this behavior to date.

Teeth clenched, eyes blazing red, your sister sends Neon off with a final, well aimed shot, and the buzzer sounds, signalling another RWBY victory. Blake is first out of the stands, vaulting gracefully over the wall, but you’re not far behind her. The crowd cheers at your back as you sprint into the ring. Near the center, on boiling volcanic terrain, Yang kneels over a blackened and depleted Weiss.

Your stomach lurches at the sight. She may still refuse your declarations of best-friendship, but you can’t help yourself. You worry about her.

“That was really brave,” you tell her later, as she glares down at her scorched dress.

Her skin is pink and raw, scoured of black soot in the shower. She looks sunburned more than anything, an injury that will heal fast and without much effort, but there’s a resigned weariness to her posture that you don’t normally see. Her stiff shoulders are slumped, spine bent. Her long hair is tied in a loose, low ponytail that spills around her neck and down her front. It’s mesmerizing.

Weiss huffs, glare tightening into an out and out scowl. “It wasn’t brave,” she says, “it was stupid. I won’t be able to replace this dress with my credit card frozen.”

“But...you have a bunch more just like it. Sooo, it should be fine, right?”

She reaches out and balls her fist in the front of the ruined fabric. “I guess so. At least it didn’t go to waste.”

“Well, yeah, and you looked super cool tackling that guy onto the geyser like that.”

“I didn’t even think about it.” Weiss tosses the ruined dress into the trashcan in the corner. “It was an act of pure desperation.”

“Desperation or not, you helped Yang win the match. I thought it was pretty noble.”

She stiffens briefly, then forces herself to relax. You’ve seen her do it a hundred times. She’s wound tighter than a spring and you wish you knew why. You want to know what forces acted upon her to make her this way. You want to know everything about her. You lie awake thinking about her at night. You stare at her in class.

“I should go study,” she says, through clenched teeth. “We’ve got a test Monday.”

“Weiss...” You reach out to touch her arm, but she flinches away. You ignore the twisting in your stomach. “You should probably get some rest.”

“It’s too early to go to bed.” Her blue eyes shimmer with something liquid and strange. “If I wasn’t so sore I’d already be at the gym with Blake.”

You sigh because you know she won’t let this go. Today’s actions, however brave, won’t look like a victory to her father, and right now, you realize, his opinion is the only thing that matters. It makes you ache inside.

“Get in bed,” you say, summoning your sternest leader voice. “I’ll grab my flashcards.”

She heaves a shaky sigh. “Your flashcards are terrible.”

“Then you can help me correct them.” You point to the bunks. “Bed, Weiss. Don’t make me put you in there.”

She grits her teeth, leveling you with a glare, but you don’t back down this time. After a few seconds, her resolve melts away, and she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Fine.”

You wait as she marches over and flops down onto her bunk. Her eyelids flutter instantly, body sagging into the mattress. She’s exhausted.

You go to retrieve your school bag. When you return Weiss is staring at you with soft, unfocused eyes. Her expression is uncharacteristically relaxed. She’s crossed her legs on the bed in her simple shorts, and her shoulders are hunched forward in her white tank top. She looks, for once, as small as she actually is, and the urge to hold her strikes you like an arrow to the chest.

You stop short, breath faltering.

“What?” Weiss asks, though she seems slightly breathless herself.

Words bloom in your mouth and spill out unimpeded by your better judgement. Because you want things. You want things and you can’t figure out how to say them, or whether to say them in the first place. Because it’s _Weiss_. She makes your palms sweat and your heart race and-

“You’re just really beautiful,” you say, without thought or preamble, “and sometimes, when I look at you, I forget what I was thinking.”

Weiss’ expression goes completely blank. “...Oh?”

“Darnit,” you mutter, eyes sliding away. “I said something weird again.”

A small hand finds yours and tugs. You stumble a bit, but then you’re falling onto the bed next to Weiss, who is staring at you intently. Her blue eyes are wide and bright. Her mouth is slightly ajar. You’re sitting so close you can feel her knee pressed against your thigh. You can smell her expensive shampoo. Her hand is still clutching yours tightly and all of your awareness hones in on that little bit of contact like a laser until you can’t seem to focus on anything else.

“I make you nervous?” Weiss asks quietly.

“Um, yeah.” You swallow thickly. “Yes.”

Her face draws closer to yours. You find yourself counting the tiny speckles on her pale nose without meaning to. Seven in all. A perfect number.

“You think about me?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“A lot?”

Your cheeks start to feel very warm and you can’t meet her eyes. You force yourself to nod.

“So, you like me,” she declares bluntly.

Your skin flushes hot and cold. Weiss smirks, and you experience a curious prickling all over your body, as though a sudden fever has taken root. It’s the proximity of her mouth that’s making you feel this way. It’s so close you can imagine it. You wonder how it’ll feel, whether it’ll be like the movies, whether it’ll be soft or wet. Whether you’ll get the fireworks in your head or the butterflies in your stomach.  

“What’re you thinking about?” Weiss whispers.

Her forehead bumps softly against yours. It’s unclear which one of you has been leaning closer, but in another second, when you close the gap, it doesn’t really matter.

And it especially doesn’t matter when Weiss kisses you back.

The kiss is clumsy. It’s your first, but Weiss quickly takes the lead, and you’ve always been a fast learner so it’s lovely anyway. Your nerves give way to a rush of blood, a steady pulsing, a curious hunger. It’s not that she tastes any particular way, it’s that it’s _Weiss_ who swipes at your tongue, who nips at your lip and tugs with her teeth, and your stomach swirls because you know for certain now you’re addicted to her. You kiss her again when she pauses. You let her show you how to move, but you’re already strategizing, already scheming up new combos to try. You can’t wait to lead this battle.

“Does this mean you like me, too?” you ask, blinking slowly as you draw back.

Weiss’ silver lashes flutter. “Is it not obvious? Should I make a flashcard?”

“Well, it’s just you’re always so annoyed with me and- mmph!”

She initiates a quick, forceful kiss. Soft lips caress yours until you’ve become too thoroughly breathless to keep talking. When she breaks away, her blue eyes are dark.

“Yes,” she says, threading eager fingers into your hair. “I like you, too. Now shut up and let me kiss you before our teammates get back.”

She wraps her arms around your shoulders and it feels like a door unlocking in your chest. You let her pull you down into her bed. It's the most relaxed you've ever seen her.

It feels like you’ve accomplished something important.

-

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: liked this story? wanna yell about it? leave me a comment! 
> 
> Or you can always come hit me up on tumblr @ aeschylusrex


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